


anyone can see it

by ghostsorpsychics



Category: Merlin (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Artists, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Character Death In Dream, Dream Sex, Like really slow, M/M, Slow Burn, but i dont know anything about anything else, dream imagery, honestly i just got obsessed with dreams writing this, i havent planned anything so dont expect much from me, pretty sure painters didnt exist yet, theyre in love but only complete strangers can tell
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-11-04
Updated: 2020-09-26
Packaged: 2021-01-23 05:01:40
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 5,300
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21314593
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ghostsorpsychics/pseuds/ghostsorpsychics
Summary: an unknown artist arrives in camelot. he offers to create portraits of the royal family. when he mistakes merlin's devotion for affection, his relationship with arthur changes.
Relationships: Merlin/Arthur Pendragon (Merlin)
Comments: 18
Kudos: 122





	1. one look

**Author's Note:**

> this is the first fic i've written in years, so make of that what you will. i dont really have a complete plan so i will be changing alot as i write more.

The rising sunlight only provided a subtle warmth to combat the morning chill. Merlin only had his coat, neckerchief, and his duty to the future King to keep him warm. Though he was not yet cutting it close to being late, he hurried to Arthur’s quarters. His nose and cheeks were flushed from the cold wind and the occasional jog.

  
Halfway to the prince, he passes Gwen carrying a stack of sheets. She cheerily greets him. Merlin slows his pace to walk alongside his friend, not caring that he will definitely be late. She starts on about her tasks for the morning, so he urges her to tell him more.

  
“Apparently he’s an artist.” Gwen tells about the new guest. “He came in before sunrise, with his apprentice carrying his bags of materials. I didn’t see him, but Allis said he was extremely handsome and, the artist that is. That’s what she said anyway.” She started to get nervous. She hid her head behind the sheets, but quickly looked back up before she would have tripped.

  
“I- I wouldn’t know… if he,” She stuttered, causing Merlin to laugh. He never understood why Gwen got nervous about handsome men, but egged her on anyway.

  
“Sure you do,” he teased Gwen. To which she playfully nudged him with her shoulder, careful not to drop the sheets. When she nearly did, she chose to continue with her original point of the conversation.

  
“Anyway, he came in requesting an audience with Uther. He apparently had been on the road for several weeks, hasn’t had a proper bed since he left. He said he was willing to create some portraits of the royal family in exchange for a place to stay.”

  
“So, you’re going to deliver his sheets to his room?” Merlin asked. “Maybe see how gorgeous this man supposedly is?” Gwen objected; she would never use her job to ogle at pretty boys. This even funnier to him, he teases her more as she turns down the hallway towards the artist’s quarters.

  
Arthur is in the other direction, so he keeps walking down the same hall. Merlin is still giggling as he approaches his room. He tries to calm down once he sees the guards by the prince’s door. But he still has a smile on his face as he walks on.

  
“Morning, sire.” Arthur is already awake, which is only somewhat a surprise. He notices that the other servants have already brought his prince breakfast, so he decides to keep the apple in his pocket for a snack later. Arthur is sat up, eating in bed. His plate is placed in the middle of the bed. The tension is pulling at the thin sheet, which was intended to cover the prince’s legs but now only cover part of his thighs.

  
Arthur is glaring at Merlin, who is still politely smiling. He still hasn’t said anything, just slowly eating his fruit. Merlin busies himself with the morning chores: opening the curtains and windows, setting out his clothes for the day, and cleaning up any mess Arthur managed to make while he slept.

  
“You’re late.” Arthur finally speaks. Merlin hides the laugh that he makes. He continues to clean, but slightly turns his head to joke, “No, sire, you just woke up early.” Arthur scoffs at Merlin’s bluntness and throws a piece of bread at him. Somehow the bread ends up cradled in his arm, so he quickly eats the piece then continues cleaning.

  
“I suppose the gossip from the servants has gotten around,” Arthur begins. “You’ve heard about the guest of the royal court. He needs us to be available before sundown.” He paused. What was going through his head, Merlin could never figure out. Arthur gave some clue that Merlin didn’t catch when he spoke again. “Before you think that means you get a break from your job, don’t. You’ll still be by my side.”

  
Arthur’s face clearly showed signs of embarrassment over his words, but that flew over Merlin’s head. He was frustrated. Of course, the prince wanted him to work when he wasn’t needed. He was forever going to be stuck by his side. Whenever he wasn’t risking his life for the royal prat, he was doing the completely mundane chores that didn’t require a servant. Merlin didn’t need a break, or to have his own life. Arthur was his life.

  
He continued to busy himself with things that needed attention to keep himself from his annoyance manifesting in a way Arthur couldn’t witness. The prince cleared his throat in way that indicated that he wanted an answer. “Yes, sire. I understand.” Merlin replied through gritted teeth. Sometimes he wished he didn’t need to protect the prat, maybe he would let a wyvern solve his problem.

  
No. Arthur is what is best for Camelot. For everyone. Just not Merlin’s sanity.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 2/20/2020-changed the chapter name, they go with the title of the fic which is based of the same song. lmk if you can guess the song.


	2. meant just for you

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> arthur and merlin attend dinner held for the new guest

The torches light the hall as the day fails. Merlin lurks behind Arthur as they walk to the great hall. The way Merlin watched his prince was uncommon for a servant. He looked at him the way a guard does while protecting their charge. He appeared much less threatening than a goose, but he was prepared to risk his life. His readiness to spot a potential problem made up for Arthur’s oblivious attitude. 

  
The prince’s stride slowed as they approached the doors, as to preserve the time he had alone. But once those doors opened, noise and company interrupted the privacy of the two young men.

  
The King and stranger joyously acknowledged Arthur as he approached the great table. Gwen and the visitor were the only ones that seemed to be aware of Merlin’s presence. Gwen seemed happy by Merlin joining her, as no other person but Morgana would speak to her. 

  
The unknown visitor, eventually introduced as Branor continued flattering the King in hopes he could be granted to stay for sometime. This involved lamenting how beautiful every tiny thing was about the castle. He praised the food which was laid in piles along the length of the table. At the point that Arthur began listening in, he was delivering a fifteen minute long monologue about the wine. His praises only encouraged everyone to delight in more wine. The servants could only wish to get drunk later off cheap ale to forget the over eagerness of the stranger.

  
As Uther spoke, the artist took his happy tone as a sure sign he would be granted the chance to paint the royal family. He began loudly praising his son, “Arthur, my only son, is a brilliantly skilled soldier. He has solitary defeated many magical creatures,” Merlin attempted to hide a chuckle as he said those words. 

  
“But Arthur cares a little too much for the lone man. Maybe when he marries a suitable woman, he’ll understand what needs to be done.” The conversation was now entirely led by Uther, and Branor encouraged him to continue. “Which hopefully will be very soon, not that he has any troubles with the ladies. Arthur is incredibly handsome, he looks just like his mother.” A sour look appeared on Morgana’s face. Uther, almost aware of his mistake, glanced at the children in his care, only to ignore the look of sorrow in his son’ s eyes. Hoping to move on, Uther let out a huge laugh, “And gets all his charm from me!”

  
The evening had made a disappointing turn which affected everyone except the King and his artist. Arthur hid his sadness over his lost mother with his anger for his father. Merlin noticed attempts and gently attended to the prince. As he refilled the glass of wine, he laid a comforting hand on Arthur’s shoulder. It was a brief and subtle gesture that could be read as trying to steady himself to pour the prince more wine. Only Merlin was supposed to notice what he meant by the light touch. But Branor caught the act before it ended, and wondered if their closeness was acknowledged or accepted. He found himself watching the pair, hoping he could catch other moments as clear as the servant’s touch. He did not. But it was obvious while Arthur was not participating in conversation he snuck glances at his servant. The royals in this Kingdom, with the exception of Uther, seemed to engage in conversation with the common help unlike the other kingdoms Branor visited.

  
Morgana seemed uninterested in noticing or speaking to anyone in the great hall apart from Gwenivere. Arthur was better at hiding this fact. He would lead the conversation when he wanted, and spearhead arguments just like his father would. But he would much rather only talk to his closest friends, even if they happened to be the help for the evening. Branor recognized this, but was flattered that Arthur pretended to care about what he had to say. He was getting to know the people who would appear in his painting. At a surface level, to do the family justice he would have to form a better relationship. 

  
Uther loudly cleared his throat to get the attention of the entire room. He turned to Branor and began asking about the process he goes through for a painting. The artist immediately realized the meaning for the questions, and spiraled into a brief explanation on the routine of his schedule. Arthur hid his face from the two men engaged in conversation. He made a face for Merlin, displaying his disinterest in being in the room any longer. His servant offered a sympathetic expression. He made a gesture that Arthur understood to mean be patient and they would leave soon. Merlin’s gesture put an endearing smile on Arthur’s face, which he hid from the other guests.

  
As the dinner went on, Arthur and Morgana’s presence wasn’t needed and they were excused while the King continued planning with Branor. Arthur nodded to his father and guest as he stood to leave. 

  
“Let’s go Merlin.” He pushed his servant forward by wrapping his arm around Merlin's shoulders. Arthur dropped his arm, and walked ahead Merlin. He slowed his stride when the door to the great hall closed behind them. They were not walking side by side, but he was close enough to occasionally bump into the prince’s shoulder. Arthur grumbled on about Merlin not being able to walk properly. He pretended to be annoyed, but he had a smile Merlin couldn’t see. His voice had a laugh he could definitely hear. The longer Merlin knew Arthur, he learned that his friend would never make an obvious move to show how he truly felt about the people closest to him. Whenever his prince nagged him about anything about him that didn’t live up to his standards, he knew Arthur wasn’t serious. 

  
Merlin held back a soft laugh the next time his arm hit the dollophead as he pretended to be upset. Their arms lingered close together longer this time as Arthur slowed down to walk next to him. His fingers brushed against Merlin’s wrist. Merlin held his breath as he waited for his prince to make a snarky remark or command. Instead of saying anything, he stepped to the side and scratched his chin. He tried to push the thought of grabbing Merlin’s hand to the back of his mind. 

  
They never talked much when Merlin accompanied him on walks, but suddenly the silence felt heavier to Arthur now. Their conversations usually depended on upcoming events or chores he needed Merlin to do, and since nothing urgent was happening he had nothing to distract from the silence. Arthur cleared his throat as the doors for his quarters came into view. 

  
“Well, Merlin, it seems I don’t need you.” He pulled open the door, “So you can go on doing whatever you do with a night off.” He was facing Merlin as he stood in the half open entrance. “Have fun at the pub or…” Merlin denied the assumption as he rambled on.

  
“Sire, are you certain there is nothing more I need to do,” Though he was looking forward to having time off, he did not want to listen to Arthur to come up with more reasons to nag him about his chores. But the prince assured him that he could leave. Arthur adjusted his grip on the door between the two as he said a goodnight that came out harsher than he meant. 

  
With the door separating them, Merlin didn’t think he needed to be concerned about his prince’s mood. He never had much of a pleasant bedside manner, or any good manners. Nothing had started to seem out of the ordinary. 

  
On the other side of the wall, feelings turned sour. Arthur’s mind was racing. He was frustrated, but could not pinpoint the part of the night that upset him. He would spend most of the night awake, trying to sort out his problems. He never had any success sleeping on nights like this, so he rummaged his room for the bottle of wine he stashed for this purpose. If he couldn’t sleep because of his thoughts, then he wouldn’t think tonight.


	3. dark room

Moonlight crept across Merlin’s face as he dreamt. His room was not much larger than a closet or much cleaner. He never had enough time to care about the state of his room. Not when his life was dedicated to someone else. 

His dreams were often dedicated to the same prince. Merlin dreamt about his destiny for a man so difficult. Arthur was truly the once and future King to unite the land of Albion, but that did not prevent Merlin from worrying that he had done more damage for their future than protection. 

So his subconscious found ways to torture him with dreams of Arthur dying too soon and never fulfilling their destinies. His fears played out before him when his future King learnt of his magic and reacted the way he was raised, with hatred. With his death. Or banishment. These dreams were always too vivid, and he woke in cold sweats hours before dawn. A few of these dreams had terrified him so much, he spent several nights without sleep. He dabbled in insomniac spells to stave off the chance of nodding off. Not that it mattered, the dreams still lived in his memory while he was awake. 

He never told anyone about the dreams. They weren’t too complex to understand, and anyone he told would likely tell him it was his anxieties acting out in his sleep. But maybe if he told the right person, they would confirm what he believes wholeheartedly on those restless nights. That his dreams are the truth of what will happen if he fails. 

This particular night held the reason he still gets any sleep. He dreamed of his life back in Ealdor, with his mum, his father, Will, and always his prince. As often as Merlin dreamt of terror, he also dreamt of happiness and his home. His little village stays perfect while he sleeps. In this other Ealdor, the people he’s lost and the ones he never wanted to lose stay with him. Being there was so vivid, it’s hard to remember he ever left in the first place. The wind brushes his face, too cold for this time of the year. Or maybe the dream was in the wrong season. Merlin fell further into his old home.

He was leaning against the wall outside the hovel that he hasn’t seen in the real world for years. He listened to his mum, humming to herself as she cooked inside. The villagers acknowledged Merlin as they went about their daily tasks. He knew that most were gone after a tragedy that he could not remember. So Merlin delighted in returning pleasant conversations, and speaking to those he regret not knowing more about. He watched his best friend. Will was playing knights with several of the children from the village. Merlin felt a sad smile on his face as his oldest friend let out a playful noise of defeat. One of the boy’s pretend sword, the nonfunctional end of a broom, had landed a blow to Will’s stomach. He poorly acted wounded, clutching his side and falling down much slower than it had actually happened. The sun illuminated his hair, Will was under the sun and breathing. Though it was dramatically shortened for the children's’ amusement, then they all began tackling his friend. Will began laughing loudly. Tears had already fallen down Merlin’s cheeks from the earlier display, hearing that obnoxious laugh again, he wiped away the tears from his face as he laughed along with the others from a distance. 

The orange sunset filled the sky. His father approached him, Balinor’s expression was weary from his life. But Merlin could see the happiness in his eyes.

“My son,” he spoke softly as he neared the small home. Balinor crouched against the wall to sit with Merlin. He clasped a hand on the young man’s shoulder. “Oh, you have grown so much.” He affectionately squeezed his arm. Merlin was flooded with a happy sadness, one that intensified as his mother walked out the door. She continued humming as she saw her son and husband huddled on the ground. Hunith joined the pair on the ground. His parents wrapped their arms around their son. Merlin knew this was not real or a memory, but he put this out of his mind. Because if he did not, he would lose this feeling to reality. This moment was what he deserved. He felt that he was allowed to be selfish if it was a fantasy. 

But Merlin rarely got that chance. More tears began slipping down his face as he felt himself being pulled to the waking world. He tried to fall back into the dream, but it was useless. 

He kept his eyes shut as he woke up. He knew there was no way back, but he could pretend. Merlin focused on what it felt like for his parents to hug him so tightly before he left. His cheeks were still damp from the dream. He wiped away the tears and opened his eyes. He took in his room. The sun was minutes away from rising, but for now his world was quiet and blue. 

Merlin would get out of bed and out the door before the sun like always. He began his day while the kingdom slept. Some servants still were busy at work, but there were so few that Merlin could go about his preparations without being disturbed. The kitchen was empty apart from the occasional workers coming in for short periods. 

He let go a broken sigh as he put together the prince’s ideal breakfast. Merlin focused on the task in front of him. If he had to be calm enough to handle a knife and ham, then he could not remember how it felt to be held in his parents arms. His mother was perfectly fine and alive in Ealdor. He would visit her the first chance available. 

Merlin’s vision became blurred by his tears. His hands gripped the tabletop to stop himself from falling to the ground. The commotion of the other kitchen workers interrupted his thoughts. He wiped his face of the tears almost fallen and turned away from prying eyes. Merlin took several methodical breaths until he felt like he could hide what he was feeling. 

He turned back to leave. With a sad smile on his face, he walked towards the prince’s quarters with the breakfast platter in hand. Since it was much earlier than usual, Merlin chose the servant’s entrance. There was no reason to wake the prince before sunrise when his morning held no important meetings. 

As he entered the quarters, he peeked the prince lying under the covers. Though Merlin made efforts to go unnoticed in silence, Arthur began to stir. As Merlin set down the platter, his prince grumbled as the disturbance was much louder than necessary. He looked around the room to check for any other chores to busying himself with before waking Arthur. 

Merlin walked to one of the stained windows. Arthur must have opened it sometime after he left, and forgot to shut it before he knocked out for the night. A smirk creeped on the servant’s lips as he thought of how pointless his devotion was to a future King; who would most likely be killed by a burglar because he leaves open his window at night. Merlin let a chuckle escape outside to be silenced by the wind. 

He closed the window and fastened the latch. For a second he paused, then decided the room was too dark. Merlin drew back the curtains. The single window let in a soft glow, but it was still too early to illuminate the full room. So he made his way to open the rest of the curtains. 

With all the light the curtains let in, Merlin still could have used a candle to see better. It was not enough to wake Arthur until the sun rose higher. Merlin expected he could work undisturbed for an hour at most. Usually given the chance his friend preferred to sleep in. And after a night of heavy drinking, Arthur would agree. 

But maybe it was the commotion that comes with morning chores, he begrudgingly rose before the sun. 

As Merlin was collecting clothes to be cleaned and put away, he watched Arthur wrestle with waking. The blanket covering his head minutes before was being pulled away. Not very well, as it felt heavier than most mornings. 

The covering that veiled Arthur’s view finally dropped. His hair stood up teased and some low hanging, blocking his face. His eyes slowly blinked, staying closed longer than not. The dim light appearing brighter to the hungover, Arthur kept his eyes low. Still wanting to watch his servant as he silently moved around the room, he tried to ignore the light. 

To Merlin, this behavior looked like Arthur was willing to fight any sound being made. He walked around the bed with several items in arm. The prince’s eyes carefully watching, his head occasionally falling as he moved. Arthur let out a strangled noise.

“How--” Arthur paused as he seemed to be struggling to speak. “How is it possible that you are capable of making so much noise without making any actual noise?” Merlin’s shoulders shook giving the appearance of laughter, but no such sound met Arthur’s ears. He mumbled a crude joke about Merlin practicing magic for the purpose of ruining his morning. The idea was absurd, Merlin had executed far dumber spells with the same purpose without anyone being the wiser. 

Arthur dropped his head between his knees. The action provided some relief to the heaviness that pounded in his head. Having caught onto his behavior once Arthur woke up, Merlin started putting together a remedy of some sorts. There was not any real magic to it, but he still remained cautious. 

Arthur pulled himself back up, then promptly fell back onto the pillows. He slowly moved to prop up against the headboard. He began frantically waving his hand once he got his servant’s attention. The movements did not appear to make any sense, but Merlin seemed to understand as he grabbed the prince’s breakfast. He had also subtly maneuvered a bucket to sit by Arthur’s bed. Arthur glared at the bucket as Merlin set down the platter on the mattress, he recognized it as the designated “puke pot.” The servant taunted him by saying, “Just in case.” He turned to continue his chores. Too exhausted to react, Arthur contorted his face to express how annoyed he was by the comment. 

Merlin continued his chores while reminding Arthur of the tasks for the day. Several times, he pointed to the foods on the tray, urging him to eat something. Arthur picked at his food, the small bites he took made him nauseous. He pushed his food around deciding not to eat, but instead drank the water Merlin left. Merlin noticed this, and paused his current cleaning to turn towards the prince. He pointed again, and repeated again for him to eat something specific. “That, it will help with the nausea.” Arthur briefly questioned how Merlin could have prepared something like that without knowing that he had a hangover beforehand. 

He picked up the piece, holding it close to his lips. He looked intently at the food as he mumbled, “Hope it’s poisoned.” He took a small bite first, then when the idea of more didn’t turn his stomach he ate more. Arthur rationalized that his servant probably noticed he was under the spirits' influence after the dinner last night, and assumed he would continue on his own. 

Merlin turned back to work as he watched Arthur scarf down the rest of the platter. He smiled as he spoke- “I knew I forgot something this morning.” Merlin couldn’t see the eyes that glared at his back, or the mouth that stopped mid chewing. He was stuck between spitting out the remaining food or throwing something at his servant. All thought left his mind as his friend spun around with that infectious smile. He felt his face heat up as he abandoned previous plots. Arthur avoided looking at Merlin as he tried to refocus for the day. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> okay i honestly did not plan to forget about this chapter, but i did. when i started writing i fully intended to upload soon after. and it will probably be awhile before ch4 is up too. sorry


	4. time moved too fast

Light rippled along the chainmail of Arthur’s chest. Merlin held the sheet of protective fabric between his fingers. Contemplating as he straightened out the armor to lay properly. Arthur stared out at the field laid bare before him. His fellow knights were close. Their minds running over battle strategies and the one thing they live for. Even without the threat of leaving their loved ones alone, the knights of Camelot always kept motivation in their hearts. They may not die practicing, but they could get sloppy. 

Merlin’s fingers lingered on the buckles of his prince’s practice armor. The days he stayed on the field were the slowest. His mind felt sluggish and empty as he listened to the clash of swords against chest plates. The routine of drills droned out pressing issues and the dreams stealing his nights. His hands dropped from Arthur’s side.

Arthur tugged at the plates on his torso. The buckles were not fastened too tight, but he was reacting to the absence of his friend's hands by his side. The hands quickly returned, checking the tightness. Merlin let out a playful noise and mumbled something about royalty being particular about everything. He walked away to busy himself with other menial tasks. Arthur watched Merlin as he walked over the arrangement of blunted swords and various weapons. Arthur never understood why he continued to work while he trained. Polishing swords and helping out with drills was not one of Merlin’s tasks. Arthur tried to spot why Merlin rarely stopped working in the way he handled the weapons as he cleaned. He noticed his servant no longer struggled as he lifted the heavy steel to pass to a fellow knight. His friendly smile warmed anyone in its path. Since coming to Camelot, Merlin has become an unofficial member of the knight’s circle, preferred more than the sworn King. 

Arthur cradled his sword in his gloved hand. He polished the blade as he contemplated the little things he still did not understand about his friend. How could someone with so few worries hold all the sorrow Arthur could see in his eyes as he smiled. His concerns barely subsided as he studied the blunted weapon in his hand. He swung the sword as he began his stride into the crowd of fighting men. Off to the side, pairs fought one on one, but the center of the field stood multiple men lashing their weapons in synchronized motions. Arthur brought his sword high, blocking an attack. The melody of steel surrounded him. Being on the defense was so familiar to him that he could allow his mind to slip. As he deflected the moves of his men, Arthur found Merlin through the cracks. He had noticed the last few times Merlin was present for training that his demeanor would change after Arthur entered the circle. 

Arthur caught a slip in his present opponent’s gaze, he recognized what it meant. He struck at his chest to distract him long enough to block the knight attempting to ambush him from behind. The knight was close enough to elbow, the force pushed him further into the fight. Arthur did not have to turn far to find another partner to spar. His mind drifted back to his concerns for Merlin as his focus was only against one knight. His gaze shifted between the armored knight and his servant. Merlin’s posture became tense and he kept Arthur out of his line of sight. Arthur could still tell his friend struggled to hide his sorrow. Arthur finally took a blow to his shoulder. His defenses went up and he shut out any thought about Merlin.

Merlin noticed the hit Arthur suffered. It would not have caused any damage with any weapon, but signified Arthur’s vulnerability. Merlin’s chest tightened as he thought of the battle. He was frustrated that nothing could tune out the sound of weapons clashing and men grunting. He could single out Arthur’s shouts. Though he had not had the dreams of Arthur’s final battle in weeks, the all too vivid memory plagued Merlin’s mind. Each battle was always different. At the bottoms of a cliff, or the courtyard of the castle. But the sound of screams, swords, bodies hitting the ground. Arthur’s last breath as Merlin held him, trying to save him till the end.

Merlin managed to even out his breathing as the clanging quietened. Soon the only noise was loosened armor jostling and the loud laughter from the knights. The occasional friendly pat from a knight reassured Merlin that he was awake. Every push which was rough enough to knock him down if the others intended. But the men liked him, so the playfulness present overwhelmed the lingering memories. 

Once Arthur had neared him, Merlin turned to confront him. He was not planning to shout or declare any grievances. Whatever defense he held up as he prepared to look at the prince, it all fell down as he saw Arthur. His hair clung to the crown of his head from the ridiculous amount of sweat he collected. Merlin thought maybe he was still terrified he was going to find Arthur covered in cuts and blood. But the only blood he observed was light smears on the metal armor. 

Arthur currently seemed to be attempting to undo the fastenings on his shoulder. He was struggling which was apparent by the expression on his face, and that he still wore his gloves and held the blunted sword in his hand. His eyes flicked up at Merlin who slowly took in this sight. Arthur narrowed his gaze, expressing that he needed help with something that was clearly Merlin’s job. 

Merlin’s confusion soon wore off, and his hands flew up to assist him. Once Merlin’s hands reached his shoulder, Arthur dropped his arms and sword. The ordeal did not last very long as Merlin routinely removes the armor from Arthur. But in the time it took the only sound was the loud breaths of the two men and the soft clanging of metal hitting metal. 

Though Arthur's chest was tight from his earlier workout, his breathing slightly hitched as Merlin placed a hand on his arm to steady him as he removed the armor in one motion. Without the extra skin, he felt lighter. Arthur coughed as to disturb the silence before stepping away towards the palace. He turned once to confirm that his servant was following close behind.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> sorry! i genuinely meant to upload this chapter last month, but got distracted with classes. im also planning to add some updates to the tags, nothing important just extra bits


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